


How to Plan Your Anniversary at the Very Last Minute!

by WickedGood



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anniversary, Cheesy, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gift Fic, Idiots in Love, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28660674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedGood/pseuds/WickedGood
Summary: What's worse than forgetting your anniversary? Your partner also forgetting your anniversary.A fluffy fic with Jean and Marco each trying to last minute grab gifts and set up a date for each other, with romcom almost-catching-the-other-in-the-act moments and tripping each other up along the way.
Relationships: Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32
Collections: JeanMarco Gift Exchange 2020





	How to Plan Your Anniversary at the Very Last Minute!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Songbird321](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Songbird321/gifts).



> This was such a cute prompt!! Very enjoyable to write, hope it is to read too! :D Happy new year!

Jean. 8:04 AM.

Jean was in the middle of a very relaxing shower, thank you very much, when his phone from its designated spot on the sink dinged about twenty times. Okay, maybe like, three times, but it felt like more when he was trying to take it easy. It was already eight, he had the week off, and Marco would leave for his office any moment now. He had been looking forward to a quiet morning, so even the smallest interruptions were too much already.

When he stepped out of the shower and wrapped himself up (in a warm towel, because Marco was doing laundry and knows how to treat his boyfriend right) he saw that it was just Sasha.

**sha-say: hey jean!**

**sha-say: happy anniversary to you! :D**

**sha-say: and marco too obviously lmao**

Jean stared at his phone, water still dripping from his hair.

**jeanboo: ...is this a joke.**

He shook his head to himself. Had to be a joke. But just in case, he swiped over to his calendar app.

_...Oh shit. _

**sha-say: did you forget?**

**sha-say: oh my god you forgot**

**sha-say: connie said you would but i didn’t believe him D:**

**jeanboo: shut UP connie can eat my entire ass**

“Jean, I’m leaving!”

Jean looked up in horror from his furious texting to the still-shut bathroom door.

Marco’s voice came from the other side of it. “I’m running late, so I gotta head out!”

“H-Have a good day love,”

“You too!!”

Beyond the bathroom, there was the sound of the front door slamming as Marco left for work, and the apartment was quiet, like he wanted. Jean began the process of slowly toweling dry his hair as he considered his options, trying not to panic.

Was it possible Marco was mad at Jean for forgetting, and that’s why he left so suddenly for work? No, Marco wouldn’t do that. But, Jean thought, tossing the towel aside, he might assume Jean was planning a surprise for later. Marco was known for planning surprise events, and maybe he thought Jean was attempting one now?

He grumbled at his reflection. Messy hair. Narrowed brown eyes. Scatter-brained. Not exactly boyfriend-of-the-year material.

But…

Marco wouldn’t be home for a few hours. Maybe. Maybe he could pull this off.

  
  


Marco. 9:12 AM.

First things first. Marco sat down in his office chair with a sigh and pulled open his emails. He had made it in right on time, thankfully, and didn’t have to feel guilty about starting the morning with such a mundane task. After all, there was probably nothing in his inbox except for spam.

Ah. Yep. He was right. Spam. Spam. Social media notifications.  _ Happy Anniversary Marco _ . Spam…

Marco squinted at his inbox through bleary, caffeine-hadn’t-set-in-yet eyes.

_ Happy Anniversary Marco! Celebrate all your memories of five years with Jean Kirstein… <3 _

Very slowly, Marco reached out and closed his laptop, and laid his head on his desk in despair. He must not have realized how much work was taking up his mind, because normally, Marco had these events planned for weeks in advance. No wonder Jean didn’t say anything earlier that morning. He must have just assumed Marco was planning something for later. How was he going to explain this?

...as long as he did  _ something _ , hopefully he wouldn’t disappoint Jean too badly. Marco still felt horrible for forgetting, but it was simple enough to call a restaurant and reserve a table for the night.

Not bothering to get off his desk, Marco grabbed his cell phone and scrolled through local restaurants until he found the one they had their first date at. He dialed the number, and hopefully he wouldn’t sound too depressed on the phone. Once he had that settled, he would feel a little better.

“Okay, great. Thank you!”

  
  


Jean. 9:15 AM.

“Okay. No problem. Thank you…”

“Shit!” Jean shouted when he was off the phone. The restaurant he and Marco had their first date at was all booked for the evening. And yeah, they had offered dates for the rest of the week but he needed reservations for  _ today _ . And someone had just booked the last open table!

“Shit.” he said again, resisting the urge to tear his hair out. He settled for just rubbing at his temples, and considered what else he could do. Another restaurant, maybe? Start some new traditions? That sounded nice and cheesy. Would it be good enough to save his ass, however? Possibly not.

**jeanboo: sasha what do normal people do for anniversaries**

**sha-shay: you mean people who don’t forget their five year anniversary?**

**jeanboo: HOW DO YOU KNOW IT WAS FIVE YEARS**

**sha-shay: saw it online!**

**sha-say: um people get flowers? chocolates? food?**

**sha-say: like dinner reservations i mean**

He groaned. He wasn’t sure how helpful asking Sasha would be, but beggars can’t be choosers, after all. Obviously, the dinner reservations were out. He didn't want to risk going somewhere new and having the food be shitty. That would be the cherry on top of the sucky you-forgot-your-own-anniversary-you-dumb-fuck cake. But. Dinner itself was a good idea too. Marco always loved when Jean cooked for him, even if it didn’t always have the best results. There was a dish that Marco loved from the restaurant. Maybe he could try recreating it…?

That sounded extremely complicated. Flowers and chocolates? Less so.

Marco. 12:02 PM.

It was coming up on the afternoon now, and Marco still felt a healthy amount of guilt for getting the reservation and stopping there. It was his lunch break now, and there was a florist not too far from the office building. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to stop by and see what they had.

He finished up the design he had been working on, and stood, informing a coworker or two that he was off to get lunch, and chuckling nervously when one offered congratulations on the day. Hurriedly, he left the building. Marco didn’t need any more reminders of his mistakes for the time being.

By the time he reached the florist’s, he was feeling a bit better. And then he spied a familiar head of messy, dyed-blonde hair heading towards the counter. It was Jean. Probably picking up a thoughtful bouquet...

  
  


Jean. 12:12 PM.

_ Fuck _ , Jean thought to himself in the middle of the florist shop. What flowers were a nice enough arrangement to say ‘happy anniversary’ without saying ‘sorry i completely forgot’? Would the person at the register know? Shit.

  
  


Marco 12:13 PM.

Maybe. Marco would go somewhere else. Maybe one of those edible fruit and chocolate arrangement places.

  
  


Jean. 1:47 PM.

It had taken a substantial amount of effort to find an appropriate bouquet. The worker was amused, but helpful. He left the florist’s feeling generally satisfied with his insanely expensive purchase, and proceeded to the next step of his journey- the grocery store, for an absurd amount of ingredients for a dish he didn’t know how to make.

Luckily, these were modern times, and there were things like the internet. He had plenty of time to make his attempts at the dish until Marco got home after five.

  
  


Marco. 1:55 PM.

He had the reservations. He had the edible arrangement. By all means, not a bad setup for an anniversary. But Marco couldn’t get back into the swing of work. He kept thinking of Jean, alone, on their anniversary. He had the whole day to wait for Marco to come home, expecting some sort of wonderful surprise…

He reached a decision and stood up at his desk. Even if it wouldn’t be the most eventful anniversary, the more time they were able to spend together, the better. He closed his laptop and got ready to go home.

  
  


Jean. 2:43 PM.

_ Boy, I’m sure glad Marco isn’t home. _

It was, what was it, the third attempt of dinner burning on the stove right now? Maybe the fourth. Certainly, the amount of smoke billowing around the joint didn’t help. The windows were open to avoid the travesty of the alarm going off, thank god, but that didn’t change the fact that he had to wrap a bandana around his face to fucking breathe at all. It wasn’t so bad in the rest of the apartment, but honestly Jean was willing to be a little dramatic about this. He stared at the most-likely ruined skillet and the black crumbled ash within it. Honestly, he was pretty decent at cooking. It was just something about the recipe and throwing the oils in at the right time and getting it to the exact right temperature and how delicate all the food was.

At what point did Jean cut his losses and try calling a different restaurant?

Wait, why did it sound like the door was unlocking-?

Jean whipped around to Marco,  _ who wasn’t supposed to be home yet _ , poking his head through the door. “Jean, I’m-” The two stared at each other across the room, haze hanging from the ceiling, choking the still-wrapped bouquet Jean left on the hall end-table and souring the arrangement of chocolate-drizzled fruits Marco had in hand. “What-?”

“Don’t ask.” Jean sighed, tossing aside the oven mitts he had been holding and officially giving up. “I couldn’t get dinner reservations.”

Marco surveyed the carnage of the apartment with a furrowed brow. “...like, anywhere, or?”

“No, uh- to our place.” Jean admitted, face darkening in a deep blush. He was having difficulty looking at his boyfriend in the eye, but he could still feel Marco’s soft gaze on him.

“Aww, Jean, I got reservations this morning, it’s okay,”

“It was  _ you! _ ” Jean suddenly screamed. If he had been still holding the oven mitts, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from throwing them at Marco, who was stammering in confusion. “I tried to get reservations this morning and they said they were booked! You must have gotten the last table!! Why would you do that to me?!”

“I- I’m sorry?”

Jean sighed, the adrenaline of the discovery draining away. “No big deal. What were you doing calling so late anyway?”

It was Marco’s turn to blush, his freckles popping out against dark against the pink. “I um- forgot our anniversary.”

Jean sighed in relief, finally heading over to Marco and leaning against him, suddenly tired. “Oh good, me too.”

A squeak came from above him. “What?”

“You think I’d be trying to make a home cooked meal if I could get a reservation at a fancy ass restaurant?” Jean rolled his eyes and buried a little deeper into Marco’s shoulder.

“You could’ve,” he heard Marco stifling giggles, “called literally any other restaurant.”

“Yeah, well, they’re not like,  _ our _ place. Wasn’t sure if it’d be good enough for five years.”

“Any place can be  _ our _ place, love.” Marco said when he finally finished laughing at him. “As long as we’re together, right?”

“You’re so cheesy.” he grumbled when Marco kissed the top of his head.

“But you love me.”   


“But I love you.”

“Happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary, Marco.”


End file.
